Passions stir. The ego
blurs.Reasoning has lived through
better days.Logic never had a chance
to pray.Nor power known the miracle
of play.A little less might bring
the best again.

Barefoot in the dew-laced
grass.A chill of night that
will not pass.Earth reaching up in tender
recognition.Moving through the sole,
becoming soul.So simple and complete,
the intuition.

Sensitive - like childlike
joy and curiosity.Trusting the unknown to
know it too.Precious hints of heaven-sent
incentives.The angels whisper music
in your heart.Wandering in other realms,
it starts.

A gentle shift of focus
as the tension is relieved.A startling vision on
the cusp of sleep.And then again, the rending
of the veil.So suddenly, your skin
begins to pale.Light so bright, it burns
your eyes.The fear of blindness
lingering inside.

Whatever path you choose
to take,you'll find it soon or
late within you too.A different kind of wise
that sees you through.Whispered hints and blatant
tints of color.Images that live within
the hours of your life.Reality that moves and
binds the feelof those sensations lived
inside.

Passions stir. The ego
blurs.Reasoning has lived through
better days.Logic never had a chance
to pray.Nor power known the miracle
of play.A little less might bring
the best again.A little less intense
- and there -the sacristy is openingwithin your heart again...